


i know you wanna

by crustaceans



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drunk Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 08:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1933368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crustaceans/pseuds/crustaceans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the first Friday in what seems like years that there is no practice in the morning, no game to look forward to, no more volleyball for the foreseeable future.</p><p>Tonight is as much a celebration as it is a goodbye. Nishinoya and Asahi sit on Asahi’s bed. Between them, a six pack of cheap beer and a couple of cans of chu-hi – yuzu flavored at Nishinoya’s request. Even though he was almost there, Asahi had still felt uncomfortable tapping “Yes” on the screen at the convenience store check out when asked if he was of age. Asahi’s parents are visiting friends in Nara for the weekend and the boys have the house to themselves.</p><p>"I wanna fuck you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	i know you wanna

**Author's Note:**

> haikyuu!! & these boys have tugged at my heartstrings and won't let go.

It’s the first Friday in what seems like years that there is no practice in the morning, no game to look forward to, no more volleyball for the foreseeable future.

Tonight is as much a celebration as it is a goodbye. Nishinoya and Asahi sit on Asahi’s bed. Between them, a six pack of cheap beer and a couple of cans of chu-hi – yuzu flavored at Nishinoya’s request. Even though he was almost there, Asahi had still felt uncomfortable tapping “Yes” on the screen at the convenience store check out when asked if he was of age. Asahi’s parents are visiting friends in Nara for the weekend and the boys have the house to themselves.

"I wanna fuck you."

Jolted out of his thoughts, Asahi manages to keep his composure as he chokes down a gulp of beer. He can feel his face heating up and avoids meeting Noya's gaze from across his bed. It isn't as if the thought hasn't crossed his mind: they’ve been together for a few months now, in love for far far longer, and the transition from friendship to intimacy was almost immediate. But even so, he still has only properly fucked Noya a handful of times, and the thought still makes him flush.

Tipsy from the beer, his reaction time is slower than usual as Noya snakes his hands around Asahi's waist. Asahi looks up to see his boyfriend smirking. "I know you heard me, Asahi." Nishinoya's brown eyes are twinkling, a mixture of desire and the beginning signs of inebriation. 

"Noya, you're drunk," Asahi reasons and, _goddamnit_ , he's still blushing. Nishinoya bristles, but leans in closer.

"So?"

Asahi can smell the yuzu on his breath, courtesy of the convenience store's lax carding policy and his coach's own careless stance on underage drinking ( _Just don't be idiots)._ To be fair, there were a lot worse things the boys could be doing with their night. Hell, the season was over, so they could even afford the next morning hangover.

Face still burning, Asahi leans forward to mouth against Nishinoya's forehead. Nishinoya scrambles into his lap, wasting no time in pushing Asahi onto his back and straddling his hips. Asahi can feel himself already getting hard from the contact. Nishinoya rocks once, twice, before leaning down and hovering mere centimeters above Asahi's lips, his bleached bangs tickling Asahi's forehead.

"You still haven't answered me," Nishinoya purrs.

Asahi grabs Nishinoya's hips, grinding upwards. Satisfied with the silent response, Nishinoya closes the space between them. The kiss is hard and fast, neither taking the time to savor the other. Nishinoya is everywhere at once – hands tangling in Asahi’s hair, cupping his face, gripping his forearms. Noya’s hands are rough with fresh calluses; lately he’s been practicing with Suga, determined to improve his offense.

Nishinoya moans as Asahi tightens his grip on his hips. Not to be outdone, he sucks Asahi’s bottom lip into his mouth and bites down. His left hand strays, tracing patterns on Asahi’s hip where his shirt has ridden up. He palms his stomach, fingers skimming the trail of fine hair up toward Asahi’s broad chest.

Satisfied with the way Asahi’s hips keep bucking, Nishinoya pulls away and kisses a path to Asahi’s ear.

“Just say the words,” Nishinoya hisses. Asahi pants as Nishinoya tongues the shell of his ear, pausing every now and then to nip lightly. He moves down, pausing at the hollow of Asahi’s neck to suck a bruise precisely above the neckline of his t-shirt. Asahi will be mortified in the morning at the visible mark, and he knows he’ll spend the next week dodging knowing smirks from their teammates, but in his drunken haze Asahi can forget that and enjoy the feeling of Noya’s tongue and teeth on his skin.

“Clothes,” Asahi grunts, tugging at the hem of Noya’s shirt and surprising even himself with his forwardness.

Nishinoya scrambles, all but ripping his t-shirt off and tossing it across the room, before pushing Asahi’s halfway up his chest. Asahi lifts his shoulders and pulls his own shirt off in one smooth motion, similarly tossing it. He palms at Noya’s bare chest, all sharp planes and tightly coiled muscle, and while he knows objectively that he is in good shape, he can’t help but feel inadequate in comparison to his boyfriend’s lithe body. Where he is soft, Noya is sculpted.

Hazy with desire, Asahi bucks up once more, feeling Nishinoya’s erection through his shorts. Nishinoya seems to have the same idea, and briefly ruts against him. While the chest on chest contact is nice, they’re still wearing two layers too many.

“Want you,” Nishinoya pants, hands moving down to palm Asahi’s cock through his sweatpants. Asahi moans as Noya bypasses his waistband and tugs his sweatpants down. Nishinoya teasingly strokes him through his tight Under Armor briefs - worn by habit even out of season - thumbing circles around the head of his cock, already wet with pre-cum through the fabric. Asahi feels dizzyingly hot and sticky as Noya sits back on his heels to gaze down at him. His eyes are slanted, more so than usual, with lust and something else Asahi can’t quite place. The look sends a shiver down his spine and makes his cock twitch with desire.

“I — you too,” Asahi’s voice is thick and low with arousal, suddenly desperate to see what it feels like to have Nishinoya inside him, thrusting, hitting _that_ spot over and over and—

“Hang on,” Nishinoya swings a leg over Asahi’s waist and crawls off the bed, stumbling when both feet touch the ground. He swears, the alcohol and adrenaline having mixed, making the room swim in front of him as he fumbles around for his bag. His fingers slip as he unzips the front pocket, digging around until he finds the small bottle he’s looking for.

Pumping his fist in victory, Nishinoya uses his other hand to tug off his shorts and boxers in singular motion. Stepping out of his clothes, he nearly trips over himself sauntering back to the bed. Asahi always tells him he needs to be more modest in the club room and Nishinoya knows that this is one of Asahi’s many insecurities. As if he would let another teammate seduce him. Let them see his body, know what they’re missing. Nishinoya is only interested in the man sprawled on the bed, blushing and averting his gaze as Nishinoya, brazen and proud in his nudity, tugs lightly at his own cock.

“Oy, I’m about to fuck you. You can’t be embarrassed about seeing me naked,” Nishinoya huffs.

Face burning, Asahi looks Nishinoya square in the eyes before deliberately raking down his body. His breath catches in his throat. Nishinoya is naked and beautiful, still peppered in fading bruises from the Spring High Tournament and making a show of touching himself. Asahi finds it hard to breathe, seeing him, unable to look away. _Fuck_ , if he isn’t perfect. 

Nishinoya crawls back onto the bed and atop Asahi, deliberately rutting against him.

“Nicked this from the store while you were buying the booze,” he states a little too proudly, displaying the bottle of lube in his hands. Asahi’s eyes widen, but Nishinoya dives in for another kiss before he can chide him. He palms Asahi’s straining cock for a few seconds more before his thumbs dip underneath the waistband of his boxer briefs, past the bush of curls Noya finds _incredibly_ sexy, to tug the briefs down to Asahi’s knees. Noya balances on one knee and uses the other leg to pull the briefs the rest of the way down the ace’s legs, slipping only once to kick Asahi in the shin. Still somewhat deft, despite the inebriation.

Nishinoya’s tongue is in Asahi’s mouth when he feels the other’s hands moving toward the cleft of his ass. Nishinoya slows and lightly squeezes, a silent out if Asahi has changed his mind, but Asahi only moans, eager for Nishinoya to continue. The first finger, slick with lube, pushes inside him. They’ve tried this before, nimble fingers working him to orgasm, but this is the first time Noya will be _inside_ him like this.

Asahi feels around the bed for the bottle, smearing some onto his palm and reaching to grab his erection as well as Noya’s. Nishinoya swears as Asahi brings their cocks together, pumping slowly. The pleasure builds as Nishinoya adds another finger, scissoring him open.

“S _hit_ , Noya, please,” Asahi moans, arching his back and pressing down on Noya’s fingers. “I’m ready.”

Nishinoya nods, removing them and playfully swatting Asahi’s hand from his cock. He lurches down for a kiss, downright sloppy and all tongue, as he repositions himself between Asahi’s legs.

Something in the air changes as he slowly, agonizingly, pushes inside. Asahi sees stars, wonders how this can possibly feel so good and Noya isn’t even all the way in.

“Fuck me. Please, Noya, just _fuck me_ ,” Asahi begs into Nishinoya’s shoulder, voice guttural.

Nishinoya takes a deep breath before pushing all the way in. He gives Asahi a moment to get used to the feeling before pulling almost all the way out, and then slamming back in. A small part of Asahi notes that he’ll likely be sore tomorrow, but the majority of his drunken brain couldn’t care less.

Nishinoya sets a bruising pace, sloppy with desperation and arousal. He’s driving into Asahi with the same determination he has on the court, and roughly the same power.

“God, Asahi, you feel amazing.” Nishinoya has given up on kissing him, the stimulation and effort too much, and settles for panting into his shoulder. Asahi moans, louder than Nishinoya has ever heard him before. Usually, Asahi is silent, or as close to it as he can manage - whether that means biting into Noya’s shoulder or stuffing his own fist into his mouth. With his parents gone, they can be as loud as they want, which was certainly not a problem for Nishinoya.

“Noya, Noya, Yuu… _fuck_ ,” Asahi chants his name like a prayer, voice cracking as Nishinoya changes angles. Asahi’s hands fist into the sheets, his own impossibly hard cock long forgotten.

Suddenly, Nishinoya stops and pulls out. Asahi’s eyes fly open with desperation to meet Nishinoya’s, glinting and slitted. Noya is back on his haunches, jerking himself with small, quick strokes as he pushes his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“Turn around, Asahi. Get on your hands and knees.”

Asahi’s limbs are heavy and he can’t seem to move fast enough, mouth gone dry with excitement and arousal at the roughness of Nishinoya’s voice. He feels the slightest twinge of embarrassment at the new position, ass in the air and legs spread to better accommodate his lover, but the embarrassment is quickly forgotten when Nishinoya drives inside him to the hilt.

 _Fuck_. Asahi can barely breathe as Nishinoya thrusts into him over and over; the sound of their sweaty skin slapping together so lewd it could be from one of Tanaka’s DVDs. At this angle, Nishinoya’s hitting his prostate with every move. He can barely keep himself up any longer, the feeling of Nishinoya inside him too intense, his knees shaking. It feels impossibly good and _fuck_ , he won’t last much longer.

Nishinoya steadies himself with one hand and uses the other to tangle into Asahi’s messy ponytail, pulling him closer by his hair. He’s definitely drunk, Noya usually needing the alcohol to push out the manhandling, but Asahi doesn’t seem to mind the roughness. His hips move in tandem with Nishinoya’s as he fists his cock.

“Noya, I’m gonna—“

Nishinoya pulls his hair harder, fucking him with reckless abandon as Asahi reaches his orgasm, coming all over his hand and the sheets. Nishinoya thrusts once, twice, three more times before he pulls out and comes in spurts on Asahi’s back.

For Asahi the room spins; he’s not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the amazing sex. His bones feel like jelly and he collapses, rolling onto his back and not caring that the sheets are now a bona fide disaster. Noya looks down at him, flushed and glistening with sweat and looking thoroughly fucked out.

“Wow,” is all he can manage after a moment of silence.

Nishinoya snorts and climbs in next to him, snuggles into his side and wrinkling his nose when Asahi lifts his arm to draw him closer.

“Fuck. We stink.” Tactful, as is the Nishinoya way.

Asahi chuckles, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “We can worry about that tomorrow. I’m about to pass out.”

Nishinoya settles in, chest against Asahi’s back as the big spoon. _More like a teaspoon_ , Asahi thinks. The difference in their heights is 24 cm, probably more if Noya’s hair is down. The thought makes Asahi chuckle. 

“What are you laughing at?” Nishinoya’s playful shove has about as much force as a polite tap; they're exhausted, after all. Asahi simply responds by covering Nishinoya’s hand with his own. It isn’t long before they're both asleep.

\----

The next morning, they wake up hungover and disgusting; covered in dried sweat and cum. An empty beer can is shoved halfway under Nishinoya’s knee and Asahi’s hair is almost suffocating him. Without practice to worry about, they fall back to sleep and don’t wake for some hours later, marginally less hungover and doubly disgusting.

Propped up on one elbow, Nishinoya stares down at Asahi until brown eyes blink blearily up at him.

“What?” Asahi asks, voice husky from sleep.

Nishinoya pauses before blurting out, “I think I love you.”

And it’s worth it to see Asahi go bright red before stuffing his face into his pillow. The telltale mumble from against the fabric tells Nishinoya that Asahi feels the same.


End file.
